


The Lost Sun

by SolBaby



Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018)
Genre: A long fic so be PREPARED for some hurt, just angst and fluff, no ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25606117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolBaby/pseuds/SolBaby
Summary: Mikey smiles like the sun and laughs the way stars shine and when he looks at you, eyes full of mirth and mischief and wholehearted love, there's few mountains on the planet that you wouldn't move for the kid. He's just so brilliant. Bright and shining like the sun on the surface of the water and is a warmth folded like gentle fingers around your heart.And when he goes missing, taken under all your noses like a flame going out in the night, you become cold with anger that almost makes you feel brittle.But you'll get him back. You'll do everything to get that precious sunlight back within the circle of your arms again. Topple and destroy every mountain in your path if you have to, to bring your lost sun home.
Comments: 34
Kudos: 219





	1. Out of the Fire- Chapter 1

“ _DONNIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE_ ,” Mikey bolted into Donatello’s lab with all the grace and finesse of a runaway freight train, having to cartwheel himself to a clear spot in the busy and crowded lab to avoid bumping into any of his brother’s inventions when he tripped on one of the many power cords racing in.

He straightened himself, putting both hands up in the air like he had just finished an Olympic worthy gymnastic move, before continuing on his very rambunctious and boisterous way in search of his favorite resident genius.

“Hey! Donnie! _DonDonDonDonDonDonDon_ , DONATELLO!!! HELLOOOOO- _OH_ there you are,” Mikey rounded the corner to see his brother in question, his upper torso hidden under a half-built metal frame of _something_ big and complicated looking.

If Mikey had to guess, he’d place money on some kind of vehicle, probably the drill Donnie was always talking about excitedly, though Mikey wouldn’t put it past his brother if it turned out to be some kind of submarine or rocket or time travel doohickey or literally _anything_ amazing because Donnie just sorta inspires that kinda wow factor with that big ol' brain of his. 

There was an open toolbox and few loose tools lying around two purple cladded legs and Mikey crouches by his big brother’s greace stained shins, tapping them lightly as to not startle the working turtle _just in case_ he hadn’t heard Mikey calling him earlier. “Hey Dee, guess what? You’ll never _believe_ what April just got me!”

There was the sound of something being cranked a few times, before an inquiring ‘ _hmm_ ,’ answered from under the... well, Mikey was just gonna _assume_ it was the drill, and that was all the invitation to talk that Mikey needed.

“Ok, remember that board trick that Leo showed us yesterday? That really cool one where you have to do a backsided 540 flip off the ramp? So I’ve been trying to land it _literally_ all afternoon,” Mikey began, plopping down beside Donnie’s legs. He picked up one of the many wrenches lying about and twisted it between his fingers playfully while he talked. “I keep getting the timing wrong on the jump, and I think my stance is all weird cause I can’t remember if you’re supposed to do it goofy footed or not. Which like, doesn’t super help me either way cause I’m ambidextrous. Wait, can you even _be_ ambidextrous with your feet, or is that only a hands thing? Know what, never mind, doesn’t matter. Point is, I’m foot neutral and this jump is _stupidly_ hard to land.”

Mikey chatted on, pausing at the appropriate moments and waiting till he got an affirming grunt from his brother before continuing.

“And, Leo was _supposed_ to help me with it earlier, but he apparently pinky promised Raph that he’d help him with the next pizza run from Huesos’, and as we all know, pinky promises are _sacred_ and it’s like, basically illegal to break them. So Leo left with Raph and I was practicing the jump by myself, right?” Mikey flipped the wrench between his hands, flexing his fingers to make the tool dance across his knuckles and palms with increasing speed as he continued to talk.

“So here I am, on like, my _hundredth_ try, and I’m feeling really good about this next jump. Totally feel like I’m gonna nail it, right? So I go down the ramp, and I’m mid-spin, 270 degrees, that’s half of 540, right? Yeah, 270 degrees and I get a call from April,” Mikey threw the wrench into the air from behind his back, watching it flip over itself a few times before catching it with his hand again and continuing to maneuver it in between his fingers. “And I _completely_ forgot I set April’s ringtone to that one monster’s screech she likes in **Jupiter Jim 27, The Battle Underground**. You know, the one with the big horn and that kinda sounds like dad’s snore on helium? Anyway, scared the stickers right off of me! I totally wiped out. I’m fine by the way!”

Mikey assured, stopping the tool in between his fingers mid trick when he put his hands up in the universal ‘ _I’m super ok_ ,’ pose even though he knew Donnie couldn’t see it. 

“But yeah, so April calls me, and guess what? Remember that glow in the dark acrylic paint set I’ve been wanting for like, ever? The kind that’s been literally sold out everywhere cause it’s crazy rare and stupid expensive and I guess there was kinda a ban on it for a while cause apparently people kept tagging office buildings with inappropriate stuff and it would only show up at night so none of the office workers actually knew it was there till there was that whole story about it on the Channel 6 news report?”

Mikey took in a deep breath and this time didn’t wait for his brother to respond as he threw his arms in the air excitedly. “Well _apparently_ , April started working at this little mom and pop arts and craft store and they totally had some in stock in the back! April just bought some for me and even got an employee discount on it and everything so it was like, dirt cheap! And she even got some of my favorite colors too! Isn’t that like, the best news you’ve ever heard!?”  
  
“Uh-huh,” Donnie responded slowly. Something clicked a few times, followed by the sound of gears grinding, and Mikey _should_ have cottoned on to the practiced responses sooner than he did, but to be fair to him, he was _really_ excited about the prospect of painting glow in the dark stars on Leo’s bedroom ceiling to notice. 

“But it’s a school night, right? And April said she can’t bring it over till Friday cause her mom says she needs to finish her AP literature paper before she can go hang out anywhere,” Mikey continues softly. He lowers his arms and a small, knowing smile creeps on his face as he waits for his brother’s remark.

“Sure, sure,” Donnie replys back.

“And I literally can’t wait that long cause I’ve already been waiting like, 4 months for this paint set and I have 0 patience cause I put all my points into my charisma stat, so I came in here to tell you that I’m gonna go over there really quick to pick it up in case Raphie and Nardo come back home before I do and wonder where I went. Especially since Raphie’s still like, super weird about me running errands by myself and I don’t want him to worry.”

“Ohh, wow. Cool.”

And _wow indeed_ , Donnie really was on total autopilot, the _jerk_. With the wrench still in between his fingers, Mikey rested his chin on his palm that was propped up on one of his knees and gave his brother a wry smile. “You haven’t listened to a single word I’ve said, have you?”

“Mh-hmm, sounds good,” Donnie answered back, and Mikey let out something between a quiet chuckle and a sigh. 

It wasn’t like Donnie was ignoring Mikey on _purpose_ , and Mikey stopped taking it personally whole years ago. Donnie just got like that sometimes. Got lost in that stupid big brain of his, especially when he was focused on some new project idea or reading an article on his phone, which happened a lot, but it was nothing that Mikey wasn’t already accustomed too. 

Mikey reasoned when he was about four that Donnie’s brain was like a computer, and most of the time he had too many tabs open, and sometimes his brain just got way too overheated if he tried to focus on too many things at once cause Dee was an overachiever like that and took multitasking like it was a _day_ job. So Donnie’s head just needed a cool-down period every once and a while where he could just hyperfocus and get lost doing one thing for a couple of hours and Mikey _totally_ got that. 

Mikey was an artist. Getting lost in the sauce of an art project was something he sorta had a P.H.D in.

And _besides_ , one of the props of being a baby brother in a way he’ll never outgrow was that he knew every little trick in the book to get his brothers to notice him. Mikey knew that if he _really_ wanted to get Donnie’s attention, he could get it in a heartbeat and a _half_.

But Mikey could be patient and wait out the couple hours outside the ‘ _big brain working zone_ ’ just fine. Donnie deserved at _least_ that much.

Actually, Donnie kinda deserved whole libraries and laboratories and spaceships and maybe even the whole world in Mikey’s opinion. Cause Donnie could tinker and construct futuristic tech out of _nothing_ and make it look _easy_ , the same way Mikey could construct a tower of homemade cinnamon donut holes with just some leftover pizza dough and butter. 

And Mikey _knew_ that Donnie put so much effort and thought and pure, oil-stained hard work into everything he invented, he really, truly, _cross his heart_ , did. But there was something almost, _dare he say it_ , mystical about the way Donnie worked.

Of course, he’d never actually say that to Donnie’s face, cause everyone and their _mother_ knew about Donnie’s _heavy_ dislike for the mystic arts, but Mikey honestly couldn’t help thinking of it as such. When something went into Donnie’s lab, it always came out a hundred million times bigger and better and brighter and more high powered than a NASA space rocket.

Cause Donnie did science like magic. Creating whole functioning machines and A.I systems out of a few packs of rubber bands, some spare batteries and a little brother armful of colorful duct tape that Mikey liked to pick out for him. Bringing dream-like objects to reality out of other people's trash with a wave of a screwdriver like a magic wand and Mikey thought that was just so dang _cool_.

It looked effortless and enchanting and Mikey could downright beam brighter than the sun with how proud he was whenever Donnie pulled him and their other brothers along to show them whatever new project he had finished creating. 

Like he was 8 years old again, taking Mikey’s hand and leading him to the kitchen, talking a mile a minute about how he had fixed the toaster so that it would heat up cold pizza too, cause Mikey was only 7 and still not allowed to use the oven and wasn’t tall enough to use the microwave without help, and his brother just _did_ that for him cause gifts like that were how Donnie says ‘ _I love you._ ’

And so Mikey listens and watches and smiles and hugs and says ‘ _Oh wow Dee, that’s so cool!_ ’ with every invention and does his best to understand all the big, ten-dollar words and explanations Donnie uses cause that’s how Mikey says ‘ _I love you,’ back_.

Mikey taps the side of his cheek and smiles to himself before looking up at one of the hidden cameras Donnie installed in his lab a forgotten amount of years ago that he still thinks none of his brothers know about and waves pointedly.

“Heya Dee, wanna hear some cool fun facts?” Mikey grins, and makes a show of making silly faces at the camera. Because of _course_ he’s already forgiven Donnie a hundred times over for completely ignoring him.

But an opportunity to annoy his brothers didn’t come often or as easily as this one did, and it was in his basic genetic baby brother coding to have at least a _little_ fun at his brother’s expense. That’s free real estate, _baby_. He couldn’t fight it even if he wanted to.

“Mhhh,” Donnie remarks, none the wiser to his baby brother’s antics as Mikey gestures wildly around him. 

“Well, did you know the world is _super_ flat? Like, it’s scientifically proven to be flatter than pizza crust. They just came out with an article about it today about how flat the world is and how gravity doesn’t actually exist and we’re all just tied to the ground by magic invisible strings, and how all science is dumb and wrong now,” Mikey shoots off rapid-fire, sticking his tongue out at the camera.

“Uh-huh, wow.”

“And I bet you know already that the moon is actually made of swiss cheese? And it’s called the milky way because of all the space cows floating around up there?” Mikey coos, trying his best not to break into a laughing fit at what he was saying.

“Mmhhh, yeah?”

“Yeah, and guess what,” Mikey smirks, putting the wrench he’d been playing with back where he had found it and getting to his feet. “It was actually me who ate the rest of your cereal last week, not Raph. And I was also the one that got bubblegum in S.H.E.L.D.O.N’s sensors, but to be fair to me, that was _totally_ an accident and since I’m apologizing for it now, you have to promise not to get mad at me for it later when you rewatch your camera feed.”

“Sure, sure,” Donnie hums under his breath and Mikey does a little stretch, smiling the entire time he’s talking.

“And Dee, when I get back, can I help you with whatever you’re building? I know you’re like, in the _zone_ right now, but it’s been way too long since we buddied up on a project and I can maybe even paint a cool design on it with my new paint set if you want! April got me a can of neon purple that has your name written all over it!”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, yup.” 

Mikey had no clue if Donnie ever checked the camera’s footage often enough for any of this to be relevant by the time he got back, but he didn’t really care either way as long as he got to hang out with his brother because of it. “Ok Dee, one more fun fact before the road, cause I texted April I was _OMW_ like, five whole minutes ago. Guess what?”

“Mhhh,” Donnie says, and Mikey grins big enough to split his face in two.

“I love you!” Mikey says enthusiastically, blowing an exaggerated kiss at the camera because he knew at the very least it would get an eye roll out of his placidly tempered older brother. 

Waving at the camera one last time, he gives Donnie a little pat on his legs before turning around and walking back out the direction he came. “I’ll be back in an hour! Try not to miss me too much, and if you see Leo before I get back, tell him he owes me a board session! Bye!”

Mikey skips out of the lab, making sure to jump over the power cord that tripped him earlier because ‘ _fool me once,_ ’ and considers the mumbled, “Mhh-hmm, ok,” from Donnie a personal win.

\---------

“He goes for a mondo-footed noseslide, everyone holds their breath as he jumps _aaaaaaaaaaand_ … he sticks the landing! Easily clearing the sewer pipe with whole feet to spare with such style and grace! 9.5’s from all the judges!” Mikey announces to no one in particular, pulling his hoodie strings a little tighter to keep the cold underground air from blowing his hood off him as he boarded down the empty sewer tunnel. “Except for Russia, who gives a 7.2. Those guys are _always_ hard to please!”

For the past week, the skies of New York had been plagued with a heavy rainstorm that blanketed the city in a constant downpour, practically drowning anyone who stayed outside longer than a minute in cats and dogs and full-grown men alike and Mikey thought Raph would be downright _proud_ of how safe he was being.

Because trying to parkour yourself across slippery rooftops was hard enough, coupled with the occasional lightning strike and Mikey’s natural born ability to attract trouble like a moth to a flame was a combo meal Mikey _didn’t_ want to indulge in just for the glow in the dark toy at the bottom of the bag. He already had experience falling off of roofs, he didn’t need to add electrocution to his growing resume. He’s seen enough cartoons to know that lightning looked like it _hurt_.

So he grabbed his favorite sweatshirt, because the sewers were ruthlessly cold this time of year, and decided to take the long way to April’s through the underground sewer system. Which should have been so easy it was practically _cheating_. With his skateboard and absolutely zero five o’clock traffic downtown, Mikey should have made it to April’s in 10 minutes _flat_.

Except that was a whole 40 minutes ago and this was now the _fourth_ sewer passage he had tried that was flooded beyond what Mikey was willing to put up with on a cold and stormy afternoon. Safe to say that he was starting to get a little _annoyed_ at how much this was putting him behind schedule.

But Mikey was nothing if not optimistic and stubborn, almost dangerously so, and he wasn’t going to let a little stormwater detour him on his mission no matter how much of a _bummer drummer_ this whole situation was turning out to be. Cause there are some walls on the lair that were _sorely_ missing some Mikey branded _pizzazz_ and he doesn’t have _time_ for New York's sewer systems to be dumb and fail him.

He skates down that tunnel for another few minutes, humming about all the different things he could do once he gets his paint set, and only stops _twice_ when he gets distracted by a cool bug he saw, before he reached the end of the tunnel.

The tunnel opened up into a large circular room, with multiple tunnels around all pouring water into a large, churning pool down below. There were a couple of connecting rusted pipes across the large cavern, and the brick walls were wet and algae-covered from the spraying mist of the cascading water from all sides. Large turbines roared beneath the waves of rainwater that had been flooding the lower sewer levels for _days_ now, creating a powerful whirlpool that Mikey could _feel_ 5 stories above.

Mikey gripped his board and took a step back, pulling his hood down as he looked over the tunnel edge at the water below. “Oh _yikes_. Forgot about the Kensington plumbing station.”

Plumbing stations were already a big _no-no, don’t even think about it Mikey,_ even without the threat of the extra stormwater causing the turbines to go into overtime. They were big and loud and one little _slip_ into the large pool meant instant death by drowning and Mikey never went near the places even _with_ his overprotective brothers in close tow.

The tail ends of Mikey’s mask shifted in the breeze caused by the rushing water below and Mikey took another step backwards.

But it was the fastest way to April’s. Mikey knew for a _fact_ , like he knew all the spikes on the back of Raph’s shell, that the tunnel right across and below him led straight to the manhole beside April’s apartment. Mikey could almost _smell_ the acrylic paint from where he stood at the tunnels edge. Or maybe that was just the chipping paint from one of the pipes he was smelling. 

_Point was_ , all he had to do was make the jump and he was golden.

The 30-foot jump. 

To the tunnel opposite of him. 

_Over a giant deadly whirlpool with absolutely no means of escape and no one around to pull your sorry butt out of if you fall._

Mikey gulped. Another step backwards. 

“Ok. Okokokokokokokok, _ok_. _OK_! Don’t psych yourself out about this Mike. What would Mind Raph say?” Instantly a crystal clear mental image of his big, older brother popped into his head and pointed out all the things Mikey already knew.

Like how this was a really bad idea. And how he was already too far underground to get any cell service so he couldn’t even let April know he was gonna be late, let alone let any of his brothers know where he was. And how this was a _really_ bad idea. And how he should just go back and try the Flatbush tunnel over to Avenue U instead. Because even though that was an extra 30 minutes out of his way and he didn’t know if that tunnel wasn’t also flooded, it was much safer than trying to make _this_ jump. Especially since he had totally forgotten his Kusari-Fundo in his earlier excitement, and _yeah ok_ , that was _super_ dumb of him, so he couldn’t even slingshot himself across if he needed too and _oh yeah_ , THIS WAS A REALLY BAD IDEA.

Mikey slapped his cheeks and sucked in a deep breath through his nose, exhaling it loudly as he bounced around on the balls of his feet. 

It would be fine. Mikey _totally_ got this. He couldn’t afford to think he didn’t. He was gonna be 100 percent, completely and totally _fine_ and he couldn’t _wait_ to laugh about this with Dee and Nardo back at the lair. He’d leave out the scary parts for Raph’s sake.

Shaking off the last bit of jitters that settled uncomfortably behind his plastron, Mikey forces a grin on his face as he walks back down the length of the tunnel, leaving himself plenty of room to build up a good and proper speed for the jump. 

“A hush falls over the crowd as Michelangelo takes the stage, about to perform the most deft defying stunt of his entire 13-year career,” Mikey whispers to himself, barely audible over the sound of his own beating heart pounding against his shell and the roar of the turbines echoing down the tunnel.

He drops his board, and hops on it at a run. 

He pushes against the cold sewer floor with all his might, his legs pumping with newfound adrenaline as he races down the tunnel. Misted air whips at his face and pulls at the end of his mask tails as he keeps gaining speed.

_Faster. Faster. I can make it if I go faster._

The edge of the tunnel gets closer and closer as the light from the open station pushes away at the tunnel darkness and the last of Mikey’s reservations. He bends his knees, sucking in a quick breath through his teeth when the tunnel falls out from beneath him and then he’s flying.

Mikey realizes all too late, and with a fear that is toothed and white-knuckled and _breathless_ , that his body was still on muscle memory mode from the hours of practice before, and trying to perform the 540 trick he had so epically failed about a million times already and _oh god, now was super not the time to perfect that score, dude!_

But he was already mid-spin and halfway across the station expanse and the other side of the tunnel was _right_ there. The only thing Mikey had left in his name to do was close his eyes and hope and wish and downright beg the great skating powers that be to “Please, please, _please_! Sydney Allen. Tony Hawk. Rodney Mullen. If you can hear me, PLEASE, don’t let me die in a sewer trying to pull off a Goofy Footed McTwist.”

The tunnel floor came up hard and fast under Mikey’s feet, sending him spiraling forward and tumbling over himself a few times before he came to a slow stop a couple of feet from the sewer edge. He laid there on his stomach for what felt like a solid hour even though he _knew_ it couldn’t have been more than just a few seconds, letting his heart do a full drum solo against his ribcage as he stared at the tunnel entrance with wide, glossy eyes. His skateboard skidded somewhere further down the tunnel but Mikey _hardly_ cared enough in that moment to look for it because wow. 

Holy _Wow_.

After reminding himself to _breathe_ and waiting long enough for his pulse to drop back down to earth, Mikey slowly got up on his shaky legs, still vibrating with something between adrenaline and fear, and used the tunnel wall to balance himself as he looked back out of the tunnel entrance.

He was just _up_ there. Up at the tunnel a little above and across the way from the one he was in now, and the water below was still foaming and turning and not at _all_ within range and Mikey was _here_ now. On the other side. 

Mikey made it. He was _safe_.

“And the crowd goes _wild_!” Mikey hollars, shooting his arms up in the air triumphantly as he grins hard enough to hurt. A shaky and excited laugh escaping his lips and filling the tunnel air around him.”10’s across the board! Even the Russian judge gives full marks! Yeah, _baby_! Just _wait_ till Leo hears about this! If he wore socks, I’d knock them _clean_ off! A million cool ninja points to _this_ guy!”

And ok, maybe it wasn’t the most _appropriate_ time to be celebrating, because _heck_ , in retrospect that was actually super dang dangerous and dumb and scary and Mikey wasn’t going to be doing that again _anytime_ soon.

But he had made it! He was totally fine! Well ok, maybe not _totally_ fine. His ankle did kinda hurt a little from the rough landing, but he was no worse for wear! And he actually completed the jump in its entirety, trick and all! 

So he was gonna take the win as it was and clean his hands completely of the whole affair, because he still had a paint set to retrieve and that was honestly enough excitement to last him the rest of the week.

Still riding the rest of the remaining adrenaline high, Mikey turned on his heels, ignoring the faint sting in his right ankle as he went to retrieve his deck. It had skidded a few feet farther down the tunnel but hadn’t gained any scratch marks from the whole endeavor, so Mikey tucked it securely under his arm and continued his way further down the tunnel. 

He walked like that in silence for a couple of minutes, still beaming and absolutely _flourishing_ in the giddiness of his earlier accomplishment before the tunnel ended in a two-way intersection.

Mikey knew that the manhole cover by April’s was just a couple more minutes walk down the right side of the tunnel. Adjusting his board under his arm, Mikey pulled his hood back over his head with his free hand in preparation for the breakneck sprint in the rain out of the manhole and up April’s fire escape.

He could almost _feel_ the warmth of April’s bedroom already. Ready to shed the uneasy chill that had settled itself just under Mikey’s shell like an old blanket. She’d open her bedroom window, give him a kiss on the forehead as easy as giving him a towel, and probably scrunch up her nose in that cute and disgusted way and without any mercy tell him he stunk worse than Raph’s fear stink. And he’d laugh and she’d show him the paint set she got him and she’d be the _very_ first Mikey got to tell of his adventures in the sewers cause she was already at the top of Mikey’s favorite person list. 

And maybe, if he played his puppy dog cards _just_ right, April would let him use her shower and call Leo for him so that he could teleport Mikey back home instead of him having to spend another hour wandering around in the dark and cold sewer by himself.

Mikey took one step forward down the right tunnel, and was immediately greeted by a low growl coming from the opposite end of the left tunnel that stopped him cold in his tracks.

He should have kept walking. Every single one of his senses was kicked up into high gear and they were screaming _Danger! Run! Danger!_ Like a broken police siren and Mikey should have _just. Kept. Walking._

But the growl didn’t sound mean or intimidating or even scary, and Mikey didn’t really have any reason or proof to back him up other than pure intuition, but it almost sounded... hurt.

And it definitely sounded _scared_.

That was really all the motivation Mikey needed to turn his back on the plush beanie bag in April’s room that had his name written all over it and head down the left tunnel towards the noise. 

_Wait for me just a couple more minutes, Ape._ Cause what if it was a hurt kitty or dog that got washed down a sewer grate? What if it was someone hurt and that needed help? Mikey had lived in the sewer all his life. He knew better than to just ignore what he heard as just old sewer noises adjusting to the harsh storm above.

 _Someone_ made that sound. And Mikey was pretty sure curiosity was gonna be the death of him but he hoped his brothers would forgive him for it anyway as he pushed forward attentively.

The sewer was dark, even with Mikey’s eyes adjusting to it as best they could, and he had to keep close to the tunnel wall to steady himself. After a few moments of shuffling awkwardly in the dark, Mikey had a very audible, _‘oh DUH,_ ’ moment and went to reach for his phone to pull up the flashlight app.

As soon as Mikey reached for his hoodie pocket though, he heard the growl again, this time much louder and practically _right in front of him_ and Mikey had never gone so still in his entire _life_.

 _Not a dog,_ Mikey thought, as his eyes came to rest on the large form of something big and spikey and _breathing heavily,_ it’s long shape sprawled out in front of him. _Definitely not a dog._

And Mikey couldn’t really be sure if it was a person either. It certainly wasn’t human, the figure much too long and bulky to make up the anatomy of any person Mikey had ever seen. He couldn’t really be sure what it is, and as much as he wanted to reach out and ask, Mikey didn’t. 

Those self-preservation skills that Mikey _oh so loved_ to ignore were finally taking back the steering wheel and had locked Mikey firmly in place. Not daring to move, so much as _breathe_ , as he was forced to focus as hard as he could on just _what exactly_ was in front of him.

It _had_ to be a Yokai, judging from the sheer size and shape of the creature. Mikey didn’t really know what else it could be, and the more he stared, the more his eyes could make out the rough, leathered texture of skin and scales, much like his own. He had a large, angular head and Mikey was pretty sure he could make out the creature wearing pants and… were those...

There was a slight clinking sound as the creature shifted and Mikey accidentally let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in a quiet gasp as two, reflective green slitted eyes pierced him through the dark like daggers.

 _Chains_. Those were definitely _chains_ around its wrists and ankles.

“ _ **RUN**_ ,” the creature snarled in a low and graveled voice and Mikey absolutely, 100 percent without a _doubt_ , would have, no questions asked.

Except, then the creature started coughing. A horrible, wheezing cough that rattled Mikey all the way down to his bones, and the sudden smell of something irony and metallic had Mikey all but surging forward. Skateboard forgotten somewhere against the tunnel wall as Mikey landed hard on his knees next to the creature, hands outreached but not touching. “ _You’re hurt._ ”

There was another sputtering cough, as the creature convulsed with every breath from where it laid on the sewer floor, before turning those bright and radioactive eyes back on Mikey. 

“ _ **Leave. Now.**_ ” The creature growled again, and a large, scaly hand pushed Mikey backward. _Hard_.

Mikey landed in a roll, the flight or fight responses kicking in just in time to avoid smacking his head against the slick tunnel floor. He crouched on his hands and knees, and frowned in the direction of big, mean and _pushy_.

“Dude, I’m just trying to _help_. You don’t have to shove me into the wall,” Mikey huffed, about to get back up when the creature flinched again, it’s eyes lighting up through the dark like burning fireflies.

“ _ **You need… to RUN,**_ ” the creature, Mikey was just gonna call him Leatherhead for simplicity's sake, choked through forced breaths, and even though Mikey couldn’t see it, he could tell just by the acidic smell that the dude was bleeding. A lot. “ _ **They’re… They’re coming!**_ ”

Mikey didn’t get the chance to ask who.

Suddenly he was flying forward in a textbook hand roll, not even registering why his ninja reflexes were screaming at him and just _moving_ , and then there was a Mikey sized hole in the concrete where he had just been not even a second before.

“Wow-oh-OH! Look’it dis Beebs. Our new friend ‘as made a new tinier friend,” a loud voice with a thick accent laughed in the dark space Mikey had just vacated.

Mikey was kneeling now, his shell practically pressed against Leatherhead’s side which should have alarmed Mikey greatly, except this time, the dude didn’t make any attempt to push him away at the familiarity.

Actually, he did the exact opposite, and with what was probably the 5th surprise Mikey had gotten that day, curled around him. A large limb, which Mikey could only guess was a long tail, curling around his side and part of his front almost protectively, and Mikey would have probably been warmed by the action if he wasn’t too busy reeling at _what the heck_ was going on around him.

A bright, illuminating light suddenly burned itself into Mikey’s vision, and Mikey dared to turn away from the impending threat in front of him as he rapidly tried to blink the blindness out of his eyes.

“Awww it’s a little lizard, Rocky. How cute. Can we keep it?” Another booming voice said from behind the light.

“Ehh, looks too scrawny Beebs. I don’t dink e’d last long. Lizards are squishy.” 

“Ok, first of all, I’m a _turtle_ ,” Mikey scolded, finally blinking the last of the blur out of his eyes before he ventured to look back up at the two newest contenders for the ‘ _what wild and moderately dangerous thing is gonna happen to Mikey next_ ,’ game.

What he wasn’t expecting to see was two large yokai blocking one end of the tunnel. One was a plump warthog looking guy holding a flashlight, wearing retro frames, and rocking a clean-cut purple mohawk. He didn’t look all that intimidating, except for the weird-looking _gun_ he had leveled to Mikey’s head, which ok yeah, had bumped up his intimidation level by about _200_ percent.

Standing next to him was definitely a guy that needed no help in looking fierce and scary and downright _mean_. He looked more like a rhinoceros. With a sharp horn and sharp beady eyes and holding a giant, metal hammer and _ahh_ , that's what caused the Mikey sized crater in the ground. _Good to know._

“Ehh turtle, lizard, doesn’t matter. Still, you are very small friend of our friend ‘ere,” the rhino, Rocky, shrugged.

“So you’ll be coming with us,” the warthog, Beebs, snorted.

“I’m not _that_ small,” Mikey muttered out of reflex before he felt Leatherhead shift from behind him, his large, green tail flexing ever so slighting around Mikey.

“ _He is not my friend. So let him **go** ,_” Leatherhead growled again, but this time Mikey was able to spare a quick glance in his direction and had to bite down the tiny gasp that wanted to escape his throat.

Leather Head was _huge_ , bigger than the other two yokai standing in front of him. Bigger than Mikey had previously thought as he hunched over Mikey on his hands and knees, practically dwarfing Mikey in comparison. And Mikey was _right_. Leatherhead definitely was a yokai, cause Mikey had never seen an alligator that big and toned before. With lots of teeth sharp enough to cut just by looking at them and poison green eyes that were slit and focused, Leatherhead looked outright _lethal_ and _deadly_ and Mikey _should_ have been scared of him.

But he could see the chains around his wrists and ankles more clearly now, cutting into his skin and leaving large welts that looked colored from being worn for so long. His scales were dark green, but there were patches that were blue and black and scarred white from abuse that Mikey couldn’t stomach to imagine, half-covered in old and dirtied bandages with little care. 

And then Mikey found the source of the acidic smell, and it made his heart do worthy ninja backflips and his gut twist into tight knots.

A giant, zigzagged cut at the base of his throat. Unclean and bleeding heavily and Mikey _should_ have felt afraid of the complete stranger. And in the back of his mind, he thinks distantly that he is. But all he chose to feel in the moment was a whole bleeding heart of sympathy and worry for the big guy.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m totally his friend,” Mikey snapped back, tearing away his eyes from Leather Head’s throat so that he could burn holes into his new public enemies number one and two. “And we’re not going anywhere with you creeps.”

Mikey stood, fanning out his hands in front of his newest best friend protectively, and Mikey didn’t even cover a _third_ of Leatherhead’s frame, but dang did he try anyway.

 _“What are you doing?”_ Leatherhead hissed from behind Mikey, and Mikey glanced back at him and gave him a quick wink.

“I don’t know, I’m winging it,” Mikey whispered back, the tiniest hint of a smile playing on his lips. It always worked for his brothers. Why shouldn’t it work now?”

“No can do, tiny turtle. Bossman wants da ‘gator, n‘matter what,” Rocky grinned, heaving the giant hammer from out of the ground and over his shoulder as easy and as if he was hauling a bag of potatoes. Mikey made a mental note to avoid that hammer at all costs.

“So you can come quietly, or we can shut you up for good. Either way, he’s coming with us,” Beebs replied coolly, leveling the gun away from Mikey and straight at Leatherhead and Mikey could feel Leatherhead tense up from behind him. A small snarl crawling out of his friend’s clenched jaw, but that was about as intimidating as Leatherhead could muster in the condition he was in and Mikey felt his heart was gonna drop to his feet. 

He needed to buy a little time. Come up with _some_ sort of game plan. Leatherhead could barely stand, let alone fight, and the amount of blood dripping down his front was enough to make _Mikey_ dizzy. He didn’t even have is Fundo. They didn’t stand much of a chance here, but still.

Mikey had to at least _try_.

“He’s hurt,” Mikey began, but the rhino and warthog yokai cut him off before he could say anything else with a burst of terse laughter.

“So? Who do you dink did dat to ‘im?” Rocky snorted and Beebs jabbed him with his elbow good-naturedly.

“We’re gonna do a lot worse if he doesn’t cooperate,” Beebs replied, and Mikey felt his vision tint red.

“You guys are absolute _jerks_ ,” Mikey seethed, his hands shaking with a rage he was wholly unfit to wield let alone have, and the feeling left the taste of bile rotting in his mouth. “Why don't you pick on someone your own size.”

That got the Rhino laughing even harder, having to lean against his buddy to keep standing, as the warthog just met him with an easy and relaxed smile.

“What, like you?”

“Are you kidding me? _Look_ at me. You guys said it yourselves, I’m _tiny_ ,” Mikey gestured to himself without any humor. Matching Beeb’s cool stare pointedly and fiercely. “So why don’t we just go our separate ways and pretend this never happened. Trust me, I don’t think any of us want or are looking for a fight.” 

Leo was so much better at this whole negotiation thing than Mikey was, and a small part of him wished his big brother was here with him now. Even if it was just to crack a joke or bake a smile, it would make Mikey feel a _million_ times braver than he actually was.

The two bulky yokai shared a grin and Mikey felt a shiver run down his shell. Leatherhead must have felt it too, because he immediately tensed up when Rocky and Beebs turned their attention solely on them.

“Oh, dat’s where you are wrong, little turtle,” Rocky cooed, readjusting his battle hammer with both of his hands.

‘A fight is _exactly_ what we’re looking for.”

Mikey didn’t have time to expect the blow. Luckily, Leatherhead’s reflexes were faster than Mikey’s as he slammed his tail into Mikey’s middle, pushing him just _barely_ out of the way of becoming a ninja pancake as the Rhino brought down his hammer at a speed that was scarily similar to the Shredders.

The ground where Mikey had just stood splintered and cracked like dry play-doh almost easily, but Mikey didn’t have time to focus on it too hard as he rolled over Leatherheads back into a standing position beside the Alligator. 

Mikey felt something cool and soft fall off his face, and noticed his signature orange mask slide off his face and onto the ground, having been cut neatly in half and leaving a clean cut between Mikey’s eyes. Rocky must have just barely nicked him with one of the many sharp spikes on the top of his already stupidly big hammer and Mikey was suddenly getting _super_ over these guys and their whole situation. 

He didn’t have time to feel petty about them, however, because Leatherhead was promptly standing and already moving around Mikey, blocking another blow from the raging Rhino and his swinging hammer. 

And then a lot of things happened at once and Mikey rightly couldn’t remember everything that happened in ascending order.

He remembers searching for this phone, thinking that at the very least he could call his brothers for backup or send up a bat signal or _something_. But he realized in the span of 3 short seconds that his phone wasn’t in his hoodie pocket and could have fallen out at any number of places the Mikey didn’t have the time to search for. It could have fallen out when Leatherhead had pushed him, or when he had to roll out of the way of ugly number one’s _first_ attack, or it could have fallen out way before in the plumbing station and into the churning water below.

 _Ouff_ , the Russian judge was _definitely_ going to dock points for that.

After realizing that there was no hope in finding his cell, Mikey went into full battle mode. With no weapons at his disposal, Mikey had to do what he could with what he had, which was just his two fists and his sheer lack of knowing when to give up.

 _Ehh_ , he’s done more with less.

Since Leatherhead was currently in a battle of might and wills against Rocky, Mikey maneuvered his way to where Beebs was standing with both his flashlight and gun pointed at Leatherhead’s back.

“Oh that won’t do at _all_ ,” Mikey comments, and begins attacking in a fury of fists with all he had. 

He doesn’t remember much after that. He knows he knocked the flashlight out of Beebs hand at some point during their fight, sending the light crashing down with a pop and sending the world back in blinding darkness. They fumbled like that for a while, Mikey managing to wrestle the gun out of ugly number two’s hand and send it skidding into the dark and out of mind for the moment.  
Beebs was twice as big as Mikey, but that did nothing for him when he couldn’t land a decent hit in the dark. Mikey was actually starting to feel good about their chances, until the warthog swung at Mikey blindly and grappled him in his meaty arms, squeezing hard.

Mikey didn’t have a whole lot of options after that. He was losing oxygen _fast_.

“Ow! Little brat bit me!” Beebs yelled and practically threw Mikey in the opposite direction down the tunnel. Mikey flew in the air for a good solid four seconds before landing and crashing into something hard and wooden that cracked under his shell.

Mikey rolled over slowly, his ankle feeling like it was on fire, and felt a tiny skateboard wheel roll away from him pathetically.

“Ahhh man, not my deck! That was a gift from my brother you _pig_ ,” Mikey shouted down the tunnel, and got back up despite the whine in his limbs because Leatherhead was still fighting and he needed to keep Beebs at bay long enough for one of them to come up with a better plan than getting their backsides thrown around. 

Mikey took two steps forward, straining his eyes to see the others in front of him when someone yelped loudly before hitting the ground hard. Something like fear gripped Mikey’s heart like icy ghost hands, and he desperately reached out into the dark despite himself hoping to grab onto literally anything. 

“Leatherhead? Was that you? Are you _ok_?” Mikey called out and quickened his pace when nobody answered back.

Like lightning, a flash of white temporarily blinded Mikey again as someone lit up the sewer tunnel, and Mikey didn’t have time to figure out who or with what before he saw Leatherhead half-illuminated in the light. Motionless and still on the tunnel floor and Mikey was _surging_ forward.

“Leatherhead? _LEATHERHEAD_!” Mikey yelled, reaching out despite himself to close the distance between them.

He never made it that far. Before he could take another step towards Leatherhead, a sharp, piercing pain shot into his arm as the sound of something metallic rang out. Mikey looked down just in time to see a small, feathered dart poking out of his arm before the world started spinning.

“Uh _no_ ,” was all Mikey could mumble out before his legs gave out on him a second later and he came crashing to the cold hard cement floor, just inches away from where Leatherhead had fallen. 

Two fuzzy and dark silhouettes loomed over Mikey’s vision, but Mikey didn’t care enough to try and make them out or to try and listen to what they were saying. All he could think about was how sorry he was that he was gonna make April wait a little longer than he wanted to, and that he hoped his brothers would forgive him for being a little too reckless and getting himself into more trouble than he was worth.

Stretching out his numb hand, Mikey reached out as far as he could towards Leatherhead. Mikey couldn’t tell if he was breathing. All of this was for nothing if Leatherhead wasn’t _breathing_. But his fingers fell just short of Leatherhead’s arm without ever touching, and Mikey couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer as the world around slowly faded into nothing.


	2. Out of the Fire- Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey’s never been alone. Ever. He had three super cool older brothers and a dad to thank for that. Three older brothers that liked to make pillow forts in the living room so that Mikey didn’t have to sleep by himself after a nightmare. Three older brothers that knew all his favorite songs and snacks to lure him out of his shell whenever he was having a rough day. Three older brothers that always volunteered to taste test his new recipes no matter how bad they were and put trackers on his phone just to be safe and who always included him in everything they did even though he was the baby brother in every way.
> 
> He couldn’t even imagine what growing up by himself would have been like. Going through life without someone to hug him when he was scared or make him laugh when he was sad. Having no one call any one of his many nicknames. Not having a name at all.
> 
> And not have anyone at home waiting for you.

Mikey flirts with consciousness once or twice before he makes any real commitment to it. And when he finally opens his eyes, he has to blink a couple dozen times before confirming that the surrounding darkness above him wasn’t the back of his eyelids and more of a _‘where the heck am I,’_ kinda problem rather than a personal _‘oh me gosh, I’m blind,’_ one. 

“Welp, ‘m not dead,” Mikey mutters in a drowsy slur, his mouth numb and fumbling out the words awkwardly. “Pretty sure being dead doesn’t hurt this much.”

He moves _stiffly_ , his body a sorry, messy map of _hurt_ , and manages after a few failed attempts, _come on limbs, work with me here,_ to get an elbow under himself and roll into a sitting position on all fours.

“This sucks out _loud_ ,” he moans, rubbing the side of his face like it would be enough to force himself out of the sluggish and sore lethargy that clung to his movements like mud. 

Mikey isn’t _new_ to the sensation of an immobilizing drug wearing off. He’d been hit with a tranquilizer dart before, whole months ago by Donnie as a quote-unquote ‘ _accident_ ’ after their adventure with Bullhop. And yeah, Mikey had been a _little_ peeved about it afterward, but to be fair to his brother, Donnie’s tranq didn’t feel _nearly_ this bad or awful, and he was only out for like, two minutes tops.

Mikey didn’t have a _clue_ how long he was out this time around, but he felt like one of Raph’s training dummies after one too many sparring rounds, so _yikes_ , that probably didn’t spell out anything great for him.

Ok.

Ok, ok, ok, ok, okokokokokokok, _ok. Breathe, Mikey. It’s not like you’ve just totally been kidnapped or anything._

He sat there in the dark and silence and tried to collect his thoughts; trying to drag them out of the drugged and hazy fog that clouded his mind while he flexed his hands. He curled them and uncurled them in his lap, hard enough that he could feel the pull all the way up to his bicep, for what felt like a handful of minutes and just _breathed_.

The katas he learned as a child were still as fresh and familiar to him as the stickers on his plastron, and even though Mikey never liked doing them much, (sitting or standing still for too long always made him a little too antsy and itching to _move_ ) it wasn’t like he could ever _forget_ how to do them.

He knew them like they were a handprint on his heart. The same way he knew that Raph loved pineapple on his pizza even though he never ordered it for himself because Leo and Donnie hated the stuff. Or how Leo would sometimes switch out Donnie’s coffee with decaf without telling him. But only when the lights in Donnie’s lab don’t turn off for _days_ and the bags under his eyes start to look a little too close to bruises. 

It was a knowledge that was second hand, there without him having to reach for it, and he fell into the familiar reflection exercises as easy as breathing. Sitting on his knees on the cold floor, because Mikey couldn’t be bothered to try to sit in a proper, _criss-cross-applesauce_ fashion, he exhaled loud and slow breaths, flexing his hands and arms as he tried to collect his thoughts as best as he could.

_He was going to get paint. From April’s, and… it was raining, so he took the sewers tunnels instead. Most of them were flooded, so he had to jump over a plumbing station, and he made it and was so close to April’s… but… he heard a noise. Someone… Leatherhead… was hurt… and then they were attacked by two Yokai… Mikey couldn’t call his brothers… and then he was shot with a dart and he couldn’t reach Leatherhead and he couldn’t reach anybody and he was afraid and everything went dark and-_

Mikey opened his eyes. His breathing was steady even though his heartbeat had begun pulsing loudly against his ribcage and it took an active measure on his part to unclench his hands from where he had them white-knuckle gripped on his thighs. 

_Ok, meditation was a bad idea. Don’t think about what happened, cause what happened sucked. Think about what’s happening now, Mikester._

Mikey flexed his hands, and when his fingers folded the exact way he wanted them to without any hesitation or slowness, he decided that the effects of the tranquilizer were, for the most part, starting to wear off and that it was probably a good time to start going through his mental ‘ _what would -insert brother’s name here- do’_ checklist.

 _Raph would make sure I’m ok,_ Mikey thought and, with a begrudging and very professional _‘owww-wah’_ , forced himself to stand just to see if he could. There was a slight sting in his ankle when he put too much pressure on it, and when he rolled his shoulders he could feel the dull ache of bruises on his arms that felt suspiciously giant Yokai hand sized, but he was no worse for wear. He didn’t have any broken bones, wasn’t bleeding out anywhere, his shell _hurt_ but the pain wasn’t gonna kill him, and besides the little fuzz surrounding his thoughts a bit, he was almost certain he didn’t have a concussion. 

Which, as far as Mikey was concerned, meant he passed his physical with at _least_ a B- and was totally cleared to play sports again. _Awesome_.

_And Dee… Dee would check our surroundings._

Mikey looked around, deciding it was high time to finally get a good understanding of where the _heck_ he was, and the answer to that, unfortunately, was a short and not very well descriptive one.

He was in a cell, or something akin to it anyway, that much he was sure of. The perfectly square room was small, smaller than Mikey’s own bedroom, with cold slabbed and jagged stones lining the walls and floor in a uniformed pattern. There was a large metal rectangle against one of the walls that Mikey was like, _86%_ sure was a door, except there were no handles or doorknobs on his side for him to try and open it with. 

There _was_ , however, a small, barred window at the bottom of the door. Faint yellow light, the only source of light in his little cell, spilled between bars just barely big enough for Mikey to squeeze a hand through, though _dang_ did he sure try anyway. Gripping at the bars with sweaty and weak hands, Mikey pulled as hard as he could against the thick metal.

If he was Raph, he probably would have been able to make short work of the iron rods _easily_ , pulling them apart like he was tearing paper. But unfortunately, he was Mikey, impossibly small and stupidly weak (probably due mostly from the drugs still in his system, but he couldn’t blame them for _everything_ ) Michelangelo, and after a few minutes of heated struggle, decided with a defeat that prickled an annoyance under his skin, that the metal bars stubbornness outmatched his own. 

“Ugghhh, _laaaaaaaaame_ ,” Mikey exhaled in a long, tired sigh. He was gonna have to find another means of escape. But, until someone opened that door, there wasn’t a whole lot Mikey figured he could do.

_So… that left Leo… and what would Leo do in the meantime?_

Mikey swallowed hard and turned away from the metal door, his eyes finally falling on the breathing lump that shared his little prison.

_Cause Leo would acknowledge the elephant in the room._

Or… well… _crocodile_.

Leatherhead laid there against the back wall almost deathly still besides the slow rising and falling of his shoulders, and even curled in on himself in a ball, his large frame _still_ took up the majority of the cell. He was Big, _capital B,_ and looking at him through the grated yellow light filtering in, Mikey finally got a chance to compartmentalize his thoughts on the guy.

Which was… that he was a bad guy... 

_Right_? 

He had to be. Why else would the other two Yokai be looking for him? Why else would he be wearing thick metal cuffs around his ankles and wrists? Why else would they be in, like, a jail cell right now? An escaped prisoner, _maybe_ , from the way the chains hanging off his cuffs looked broken and splintered.

Mikey let his eyes fixate on the scratched metal of the cuffs. And then let his eyes wander to the scars hidden _beneath_ said cuffs. To the raised and irritated skin, white and scaleless from constantly rubbing against the hard metal and an uneasy voice tugged at the back of his mind as he looked at all the cuts and marks and lesions that added up on Leatherhead’s form.

But bad guys… were _bad_. Bad guys were mean and rude and _dangerous_ just because they _could_ be, most times without any rhythm or reason other than it was just another option on the ‘ _what should I do today_ ’ questionnaire. Bad guys like the Foot Clan or those crab brothers or even Draxum at one point. Bad guys like the two Yokai that had cornered and _hurt_ them. 

A bad guy wouldn’t have tried to warn Mikey about the impending threat chasing him. A bad guy wouldn’t have pulled Mikey out of harm's way of becoming a turtle pancake on the sewer floor. 

_‘He is not my friend. So let him go.’_

Mikey frowns into the dark, his lips pursed as his mind raced at remembering Leatherhead’s words in his defense. 

A bad guy wouldn’t have tried to protect Mikey the way he did.

At that moment, Leatherhead stirs, and Mikey goes still almost immediately, eyes wide when Leatherhead moves over ever so slightly, his head and torso rolling to face Mikey and-

Mikey catches his breath.

He forgot, _holy cats how could he forget_ , that Leatherhead was hurt, the jagged cut across his throat still fresh and raw and bleeding slowly and Mikey was tearing off his sweatshirt in a heartbeat, body surging towards the alligator before he could think to do otherwise because, _“oh me gosh, I’m so stupid.”_

Using his teeth, Mikey ripped off his hoodie sleeves and in turn, ripped those into long thin strips of orange fabric that accumulated on his lap. 

Because who _cared_ if Leatherhead was a bad guy, even though Mikey was starting to think he was pretty sure he wasn't, the guy was _hurt_ , and at that moment that’s all that really mattered.

It was _stupid_ anyway. There was no point in trying to judge an unconscious guy, not when he couldn’t even defend himself properly and _especially_ when Mikey had like, zero _actual_ facts on Leatherhead to begin with.

And _hey, yeah!_ He had even tried to protect Mikey anyway, now that Mikey really thought about it! In his own, kinda gruff and stubborn and standoffish way, while he was the one bleeding all over the sewer floor and Mikey was _no_ stranger to that kind of stupid stubborn self-sabotaging tendencies. 

He grew up with three older brothers that just _loved_ pushing their own hurt to the side in order to put Mikey’s on a pedestal, and the familiarity of that kinda selfless kindness was something like a lightbulb flickering on and burning something warm and homey in his chest. It was the kind of benevolence that was just common sense to people, like how the sky is blue and fire is hot and it was a sweet sort of _just-because_ kindness that Mikey wasn’t really used to receiving outside of his little five-membered clan.

After a minute or two, Mikey had a good little bundle of long pieces of fabric in his lap, a makeshift bandage the best he could come up with given the absolute _nothing_ he was left within their little cell, and looked at Leatherhead’s wound with a growing pit in his stomach.

And _ok_ , maybe Mikey was just being stupid either way, because he could spend a whole day acting out one of his dad’s television court dramas for and against the crocodile at his feet. 

But bad guy or not, Leatherhead was hurt, and there really wasn’t any second-guessing on what Mikey should do regardless. 

Cause _dangit_ , if Mikey was gonna be stupid about this no matter what he did, he might as well be stupid being useful and helping Leatherhead as much as he could. Everything else that came after that was just too above his pay grade to worry about.

Deciding that the strips in his hands weren’t going to be quite enough, Mikey ripped off the thin piece of fabric that made up his hoodie pocket and folded it three times, until he had a good thick padding to go over the cut directly.

And _wow_ , was Mikey in no way a medic. He wasn’t like Donnie who knew how to give vaccination shots or make casts for broken bones with a threaded and professional knowledge that earned him his degree as resident doctor as far as the rest of them were concerned. And he wasn’t like Leo, who carried around bandages and Neosporin in his side pouch like he was trying to put Donnie out of the job, and who could stitch up split skin with gentle and nimble fingers with practiced calm and ease.

And Leo, with an easy grin that was all eyes and joy and that _sorta just_ made up a third of Mikey’s whole world, was _sorta just_ good at making everything better anyway, like how Mikey was good at drawing straight lines. And despite the hurt and the tears and the passing fear of whatever was bothering Mikey, as long as Leo could still smile like he always did, (pressing tickling fingers to his sides and over-affectionate raspberries in the form of kisses to Mikey’s temple just to make him laugh) Mikey knew he was gonna be ok.

Cause Mikey didn’t know how to mend bones like Donnie. He didn’t have the supplies necessary to do any _real_ good like Leo. He couldn’t protect the people around him from getting hurt in the proud kind of way Raph wore around his chest like a bulletproof vest and he wasn’t helpful or needed or _good_ at this like his brothers were.

But he could smile. He could smile and think of his overprotective brothers that liked to cover Mikey in colorful band-aids and knee pads and helmets _with_ colorful band-aids and he’s _not_ a medic.

But he likes to think he may have learned at least a couple of things by proxy anyway. 

Cradling the ripped fabric in his hands and taking the extra precaution to be as gentle and quiet as possible, because _oh boy, wow_ , Leatherhead had sharp teeth now that Mikey was up close and all personal like. And since he didn’t particularly enjoy being at the business end of _those_ for very long, Mikey places the folded pocket piece over the biggest part of Leatherheads cut before proceeding to wrap his whole neck with the long strips of his makeshift bandage.

It could have taken anywhere from a few seconds to a few hours, Mikey doesn’t really keep track of how long because he was too busy holding his breath. The last thing he needed was for Leatherhead to wake up in a drugged haze and see Mikey’s shadowy figure being all creepy and looming over him like an absolute _weirdo_ and wrapping something around his neck. 

Leatherhead had already shoved him once before, and he was _pretty_ sure that was to protect him. Mikey didn’t want to know how hard Leatherhead could throw him against the wall if he was _actively_ trying to hurt him.

Thankfully though, Mikey still had a little luck leftover from the gods of skateboarding that saved him earlier, _thank you, Sydney Allen,_ because Leatherhead doesn’t so much as stir.

Falling backwards on his palms and backside, Mikey exhales quietly as he watches the steady rise and fall of Leatherhead’s chest and looks over his work. It isn’t a clean job. There’s still a bit of blood soaking through the orange fabric, turning it a dark rusty color, but it contains the bleeding at least, so Mikey takes it as a win, putting what’s left of his sweatshirt back on and letting the little bubble of pride bounce around in his chest for a while.

“Alright, now that we’ve dressed you up a bit, time to work on your accessories,” Mikey hums, glancing down at the metal bands in question around Leatherhead's wrists and ankles. 

_They’re there for a reason,_ an ugly voice whispers to him at the back of his mind, but Mikey’s a pro thirteen years in the making at ignoring the little mean thoughts in his head as he proceeds to stick his arms into his shell.

Donnie was the one with the battle shell that had like, a _million_ compartments full of literally anything they could ever need at any given occasion, cause the Know-It-All prided himself in always being two steps ahead in a situation. And Mikey didn’t usually keep stuff in his shell, even though he had a bit more room than the others to do so, cause he tended to move a lot and sometimes an item would get jostled and lodged in a _very_ uncomfortable and ticklish place, and it just wasn’t good housekeeping in general... but sometimes…

“ _Score_!” Mikey brandishes a leftover bobby pin from one of his many sleepovers with April with a loud flourish, before remembering himself and quickly covering his mouth, eyes wide and locked on Leatherhead.

Leatherhead sighed softly but didn’t move, so Mikey exhaled quietly, relief like a hot towel against the back of his neck, and moved to get a better look at the metal bracer around Leatherhead’s wrist in question. 

It didn’t _look_ magically locked, just your average thick, metal handcuff that reminded Mikey of those old medieval documentaries Donnie used to watch when they were kids, with an average and _totally_ pickable keyhole. And ‘ _sweet_ ,’ cause Leo had taught him to pick locks _years_ ago, so that was the easy part.

The hard part was maneuvering Leatherhead's hand in a way that he could work on it without waking the crocodile up.

“Well, there are _worse_ things to wake up to than a stranger holding your hand,” Mikey reasons to himself, because he got this far, so he might as well occupy himself with his favorite pastime and push his luck as far as it would let him.

He slowly reaches over and gently picks up the giant paw of a hand that’s bigger than his head, and maneuvers it so that it’s resting in his lap. Aiming the lock of the cuff towards the slotted and faint yellow light, Mikey elongates the bobby pin and goes to work.

Mikey is more aware of the time now, probably mostly because he's _totally_ holding a wounded unconscious dude’s hand, and _yeah_ this was definitely not how he imagined the day would go when he got out of bed, and counts down the seconds as they pass.

It takes a little longer then what it probably should have, Mikey’s chalking that up to good ol’ fried nerves because _duh_ , but the heavy metal shackle finally gives a soft click at the last twist of the bobby pin and Mikey slides it off Leatherhead’s wrist with a quiet sort of pride.

“Round two,” Mikey whispers to himself, eyeing Leatherhead's other hand that’s lying against the crocodile’s chest.

It’s a little more difficult to maneuver himself into peak lockpicking position, _woah, say that ten times fast_ , what with the cramped cell they’re in, Mikey literally having to lay against Leatherhead’s chest in order to get a good hold on the wrist shackle. But he didn’t get this far to chicken out now, so he does his best to keep as much of his weight _not_ on top of Leatherhead and works on picking the second lock.

The only reason it takes longer to pick this cuff than it did the first is because Mikey freezes, heart caught in his throat, every time Leatherhead moves even a fraction, cause somehow he was in an even more scrupulous position than he was before when he was just holding the crocodile’s hand. But he knows what he’s doing this time, the lock clicks a perfect match of its partners, and Mikey unlocks the cuff easily and lets out a long breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Two for two, _baby_ ,” Mikey hums to himself, regarding the cuffs around Leatherheads feet with a tempting glance. “Think we could go four for four? Ankle bracelets are so early 90’s.”

Except that's about where Mikey’s _stupid_ luck decided to run out, because as he tried to pull out the bobby pin from the second wrist cuff, he pulled a little too hard and got the pin stuck. And in the process of trying to get the pin _unstuck_ , he jerked a little harder than he should have and the cuff came sliding off of Leatherhead's wrist towards the ground.

Mikey’s two-second, ‘ _ohcrapohcrapohcrap_ ’, scramble to grab it before it came crashing down on the concrete floor is in vain, as he misses the cuff by whole inches and watches as it sailes right through his open hands and strikes the ground with a loud metallic clang that echoes against the walls and vibrates against Mikey’s chest hollowly.

Mikey doesn't really have time to register what happened next.

Before he can even blink, Leatherhead is awake and on top of him, slamming his shell against the wall while pressing his full weight against Mikey’s plastron. His eyes are a distant and lidded white, different from the firefly green Mikey remembers in the sewer tunnel, and it sends a burning and panic-driven shiver of _fear_ through Mikey’s whole body.

“Woah, buddy! Hey, _hey_! It’s me!” Mikey coughs out because _yikes_ , that kinda knocked all the air clean out of him. Something between adrenaline and alarm, Mikey isn't really sure which, starts pumping itself into his system like tidal waves as he repeatedly taps Leatherhead’s arms that hold him against the wall like a vice. “It’s just _me_! Turtle from the sewer? Totally your friend even though you said I wasn’t, but I like, super, double, pinky _promise_ you that I am! Remember me?”

Leatherhead is breathing in short, rapid bursts, eyes narrowed on Mikey but not really focusing on him, and watching the quick rise and fall of his tensed shoulders remindes Mikey so much of ‘savage’ Raph that it sends a pang of relief shooting through his core. 

Cause Mikey is a practiced _pro_ on how to deal with his brother’s confrontational outbursts when he got _weird_. The kind of weird that sent Raph into a frenzied, hysteria induced state whenever he was alone and scared. Mikey knows how to talk to Raph out of that feral fear that sinks its cruel hooks into all the tender and kind parts of his brother's heart. Knew how to talk, sometimes for hours if that’s how long it took, until he could unclench his brother’s painfully taught fists and even out his shaking breathing, and lead his big brother away from the dangerous ledge he toppled from and back into the warm and safe embraces of Mikey’s arms.

And if Mikey could talk till the sky fell down, about anything and everything and nothing at all, for Raph, then he could _certainly_ do it for a stranger.

“It’s ok, dude! _You’re_ ok! You’re safe. I’m not gonna hurt you. I was just trying to help get those metal cuffs off you, see? Totally harmless!” Mikey shoots off in rapid-fire, hoping that Leatherhead couldn’t feel how hard his heart was beating against his plastron. Because Leatherhead is kinda scary, the faint yellow light illuminating just how sharp his teeth and _holy wow, yikes_ does Mikey have to fight every screaming instinct in his body not to hide in his shell and keep talking. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you! That was my bad, I’m sorry! I was trying not to wake you up, you seemed like you needed the rest. I just woke up like, five minutes before you did, and I know how super _not_ fun it is to wake up from getting hit with a tranq dart. It makes your brain super fuzzy and your face feel all numb and gross! Have you ever been tranqed before? I have an older brother, his name is Donnie, you’d like him, he kinda reminds me of you. He’s kinda rough ‘round the edges and grumpy sometimes, not that _you’re_ super rough around the edges and grumpy! I’m sure you’re a _very_ cool guy. The quiet, gentle giant type! Great with kids and animals! Anyway, what was I saying… Oh _yeah_! Donnie tranqed me once before. He says it was an accident, but he also said supergluing one of the kitchen stools to my shell was an accident, and I couldn’t sleep on my back for, like, a _week_.”

And it is kinda all nonsense, Mikey saying the first things that pooped into his panic-filled head without any sort of filter or reason. And usually going off on tangents like this would earn him passive eye rolls or, more commonly, auto-responses like Donnie had done earlier in his lab.

Mikey has no idea if Leatherhead is listening to him, or can really even hear him from whatever place he is mentally lost in, but he doesn't attack Mikey. Although, he doesn't relinquish his tight, iron-barred, _choking_ hold on him or move from where he had Mikey pinned against the wall _either_ , but he isn't biting Mikey’s head off, so Mikey considers it a win and keep talking.

He talked about how he found Leatherhead and why he was skateboarding in the sewer in the first place. He talked about April and her glow in the dark paint set she got him because she was awesome like that. He talked about the skateboarding move his cool big brother Leo was teaching him. He talked about all his brothers, and his dad, and his honorary sister, and some of the weird adventures they all got up to recently, including the fight with Shredder. How that fight was kinda scary, like how _this_ was kinda scary, but it had worked out in the end. And how Mikey was starting to think it always would, just because it always had.

And he just _kept_ talking. For what could have been anything from seconds to whole minutes, Mikey couldn’t really care less about keeping track. Time was weird in the cell.

But it didn’t matter though, because, _yes_! Slowly but surely, Leatherhead’s grip on Mikey was loosening, the lidded whites of Leatherheads eyes fading into a familiar and almost docile green. And as Leatherhead’s breathing started to slow into something more rhythmic, he finally lowered Mikey back down to the ground. The slabbed concrete blessedly cool against the bottom of his feet, Mikey would have dropped to his knees and kissed the floor in jovial relief if Leatherhead still didn’t keep a hold on his arms, pinning them to his sides.

“ _Heeeeeey_ buddy,” Mikey ventured cautiously, throwing out an easy smile at Leatherhead even though the crocodile wasn’t meeting his eyes. “Are you… you good? You back with me now?”

The crocodile blinked slowly once, twice, before shaking his head, like he was trying to drowsily shake off the lingering effects of _whatever_ had possessed him. It took a few more beats before he finally let go of his hold on Mikey and Mikey instantly leaned against the wall for support because he wasn’t _super_ confident that his legs wouldn’t betray him and give out. The adrenaline from before is wearing off almost as quickly as it came, leaving Mikey exhausted mentally, physically, spiritually, and all the other ‘- _allys_ ’.

Similarly, Leatherhead took a few steps backward until he had backed himself into the far corner of the cell and slid back down into a sitting position. One of his hands, newly cuffless _a la Mikey_ , was reaching up to rub at his eyes tiredly. The white patches of his wrists, scarred and scaleless, catch the yellow light and Mikey’s eye almost painfully.

“Leatherhead?... You ok?” Mikey asked again. He had no more luck to spare at this point, but judging by the way Leatherhead was blinking at the ground sedately, his mouth no longer in a pointed snarl and baring sharp teeth with Mikey’s name written all over them, Mikey figured he was safe for now. Probably. Maybe. Like, _72_ % sure.

“...You… talk too much,” Leatherhead answered back slowly, his voice as low and leveled as Mikey remembered, but it was such a wave of instant relief that Mikey choked out a teary-eyed giggle in response.

“My dad says the same thing during commercial breaks,” Mikey responded automatically in something between a long exhale and a laugh, not really trying to hide the edge in his voice on the verge of hysteria as he copied Leatherhead and slid against the cell wall until he was sitting on his backside.

“ _Man_ , you really had me worried there! I _totally_ thought you were gonna bite my head off. That’s like, my top ten weirdest ways to go out. Right there between drowning in a toilet and getting hugged to death by a clown,” and oh, _huh_. Mikey was still in rambling, _talk or you’ll die_ mode. _Whoops_.

He turned his gaze over to Leatherhead. There was a dull ache from the spots on his arm where Leatherhead had grabbed him and Mikey did his _best_ not to look to see if there were bruises forming, cause that would have been _rude_. So instead, he resisted the urge to rub his sore muscles and kept his hands in his lap. Leaning his head back against the wall, Mikey tried to let his heartbeat settle back somewhere behind his ribcage.

“How are you feeling?” Mikey asks, because if he was gonna talk, he might as well talk about something productive, and he didn’t like the way Leatherhead’s eyes still looked murky and whole worlds away. “You know, aside from the obvious.”

He points to his neck for emphasis, and it took a long while for Leatherhead’s eyes to catch up with him, but when they do, they meet Mikey’s with a creased frown. Confusion knitted in every inch of Leatherhead’s brow, the crocodile slowly reached up for his own neck to inspect and upon feeling the fabric there, pulled at it with a muddled, “What-what is thi-,”

“ **Don’t pull it!** ” Mikey yelped, and he would have been surprised he even had the energy to _move_ if he wasn’t too busy scrambling forward to stop Leatherhead with a tug on his arm. Leatherhead flinched away in response to the sudden movement, because yeah _duh,_ why wouldn’t he, and Mikey's inner monologue sounded something like, ‘ _you dummy, don’t scare the dude that just had your throat in a vice!_ ’

"Sorry! Sorry! But just, don’t pull at the fabric!” Mikey fumbled to explain, throwing up his hands so that they were visible and super not touching the agitated, 300-pound crocodile. “You had a pretty big cut on your throat, and thankfully it didn’t look too deep, but I didn’t know how to stop the bleeding or keep it from getting infected. So I uhhh… made you a homemade bandage out of my sweatshirt.”

Mikey shuffles a little from where he's kneeling, his knee pads doing a good job as protecting him for the jagged stone floor, as he keeps his hands up and eyes trained on Leatherhead. “Sorry, it’s not like, the _best_. I’m usually the one getting bandaged up, not the other way around, but it should help! At least, for now, until we can get you better treatment,” Mikey smiles, cause it’s easy and second nature.

Leatherhead’s eyes slowly searched Mikey up and down, and Mikey did his _absolute_ best to look as earnest and pleading and _totally_ not suspicious as he could. It must have worked, either that or Leatherhead must have found whatever he was looking for, because he cautiously lowers his hand from his throat with a quiet growl of acknowledgment.

“...You also… took off my shackles,” Leatherhead says after a moment, eyes tearing away from Mikey’s to settle on his now exposed wrists, touching the scarred skin gingerly.

“Oh yeah! Sorry, I didn’t ask permission, but they looked kinda uncomfy and I thought, ‘ _hey, why not!_ ’ Oh! I can take off the ones on your feet for you too! It’ll probably be easier to do now that you’re awake and... _ah_ … dang,” Mikey groaned when he reached over to grab the metal cuff he had dropped and inspected the keyhole. “Bobby pin broke. Pretty sure that’s my only one too. Sorry Leatherhead, those will have to stay on a little bit longer.”

Leatherhead growled again, a low sort of rumble that came from the back of his throat that reminded Mikey of a giant cat, and nodded once. He continued to stare at his wrists, rubbing them gently, and Mikey figured out pretty quickly that Leatherhead was a croc of very, _very_ few words. The- only speak when spoken to- type. Which was fine. Mikey was never short on conversation starters anyway. 

_Especially_ now that his big brothers’ mental checklist was completed, and their current situation now at the forefront of Mikey’s mind.

“ _Soooooooo_ ,” Mikey began, shifting so that he was off his knees and sitting cross-legged in front of Leatherhead. “I know you just woke up and all, but uhhh, I kinda have a few questions.”

More like a few _hundred_ questions, but again, the dude just woke up, and Mikey was starting to think that Leatherhead might have a concussion from the glossy look in his eyes. Or maybe it was the blood loss from the cut on his throat. Or maybe it was a handful of other reasons Mikey didn’t think or know about. Either way, Leatherhead was running on fumes, and Mikey could do him the mercy of toning down his usual eccentric self _just_ a tad. 

But of course, first things first.

“Do you have any idea where we are?”

Leatherhead inhaled and exhaled slowly, but made no real effort to move or take in their surroundings other than that. And after a few moments of silence passed, Mikey was beginning to feel afraid that he had maybe overstepped his boundaries earlier and annoyed the guy, because wouldn’t _that_ just be his luck to get ignored _on top_ of all the stupid stuff that had happened to him already.

But then-

“No,” Leatherhead finally answered, his large tail twitching beside him. “I have never been here before.”

“Ok, cool!” Mikey answered back quickly. He wanted to ask how the _heck_ Leatherhead would even know that, but knew better than to waste a question hashing out specifics. Leatherhead wasn’t a chatty guy. He was barely on the safe side of _friendly_. Mikey was used to pushing his big brother’s tolerance levels with his endless _what-ifs_ and _whys_ , and he could get away with pretty much murder as far as they were concerned.

But Leatherhead wasn’t one of his brothers. And Mikey wasn’t going to test his patience by playing 20 Questions with him.

“Do you, uhhhh, know who those guys were? The ones that were chasing you? The big, mean-looking rhino and the pig Yokai? Do you know what they wanted?”

Again, Leatherhead took his time to answer, breathing in and out slowly. He frowned at the ground when he replied, “...No... I don’t know who they are. Nor do I know why they hunted me down and attacked me.”

And ok, _wow_ , that word choice didn’t exactly inspire confidence in Mikey like, _at all._ “Cool cool, ok, _awesome_ ,” Mikey sighed, rubbing the back of his neck worriedly. A cold sweat had chilled his skin and stuck to him like gross, ABC subway gum. Mikey pulled his hood up over his head in defiance of the cold.

“Ok, well, do you at least... know why we’re here? What they brought us in here for?

Mikey barely caught the spark of anger flash in Leatherhead’s eyes as he narrowed them at the ground. His hands taut and clenched around his wrists.

“...For nothing _good_ ,” Leatherhead growled decidedly, low and seeded in something loathsome and full of single-minded hatred, and it sent a terrifying shiver coursing down Mikey’s shell like an electric shock.

“Wow ok, I _really_ don’t like how ominous _that_ sounds, thanks Leatherhead! Good to know I can count on you for an optimistic morale boost,” Mikey replied, more to himself than anything else, and sighed like the whole world was weighted on it when he leaned forward and rested his face in the palms of his hands. He rubs at his eyes tiredly.

Ok, think Mikey. _Think_. Compile the facts. What would Mind Raph say? What would any of his brothers say in this situation? What was the escape plan? How were they gonna get out of this?

“...What are you doing with your face?”

Mikey cracked one eye open from in between the slots of his fingers, catching the crocodile’s confused glare as he looked Mikey up and down.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. This is my concentration face,” Mikey closed his eye again and scrunched up his snout, resuming his inner mantra of, ‘ _come on brain, think of a plan! Come on brain, be so smart!_ ’ “It’s ok, Leatherhead, you just relax. I’ll come up with a way to bust us out of here, no prob!”

_Ok, so the door’s the only exit out of here, and it only opens from the outside. So if we wanna get out, we’d have to wait till someone comes and gets us. Except, Leatherhead is in no condition to fight, let alone make a run for it, and I can’t take on the wonder duo by myself. That is, if they’re the ones that even open the door. Not to mention we have no idea where we are, so even if we do get out of this cell, there’s no telling what’s out there waiting for us. I could always try and wait for the guys but-_

“...Why do you... call me that?”

“Huh?” Mikey answers back automatically, not opening his eyes from where he had them pressed into his hands. “Call you what?”

“...Leatherhead?”

“Oh, that. Well, it’s because I… uh... oh! _Oh! Oh me gosh!_ ” Mikey jerks his head up and shoots wide eyes at the crocodile. “Oh, _dude_! I am so, _SO_ sorry. I didn’t even realize I was still calling you that!”

He felt a heat rush against his cheeks, and hoped that the darkness of the cell would be enough to hide how absolutely _stupid_ and embarrassed he felt. “We didn’t exactly introduce ourselves back in the sewer and uhh, I don’t know, it was the first thing that came to mind and I guess I just kept calling you that in my head cause I didn’t know how to address you but, you know what, no, that’s not a good enough excuse and, _oh gosh!_ I’m _so_ sorry! That’s such a bad nickname now that I think about it!”

Mikey drags his palms down the front of his face before becoming self-conscious and shaking his head altogether. Putting on one of his best smiles, Mikey leans forward with a sheepish grin. “I know it’s kinda uhhh, really late in the game, but ummm… What’s your name?”

Leatherhead, no, _not Leatherhead_ , the crocodile holds Mikey’s stare in silence for a few painfully long and awkward seconds. And Mikey should have been intimidated by it. But there was a softness to his intense glare. Something that wasn’t so guarded. Something, almost…. reaching towards Mikey.

“... I don’t… have one,” the crocodile finally answers.

And that… kinda sent Mikey’s whole world spinning… because _what_?

“ _What_?” Mikey quips back, a little more high pitched then he had meant it to. And, after clearing his throat a little in acknowledgment, quickly added in a much more reasonable tone, “How do you… how do you _not_ have a name?”

“There were names that others called me,” he shuffles, his large tail flexing closer and curling around his feet. His gaze shifts away from Mikey ever so slightly and landing on a spot against the wall beside them. “But they were never _my_ name. They were never names that I chose or belonged to. They were just… meaningless titles.”

That sorta made absolutely _zero_ sense to Mikey, and he said as much. “Ok but like, what did your family call you? You must have had a name growing up, right? Even one you gave yourself?”

The crocodile continues to keep his gaze certifiably _not_ on Mikey, and instead on the spot on the wall. Judging from the intense Look, capital L, he was giving it, there must have been something really interesting stuck there. Mikey resists the urge to follow the croc’s stare and look for himself.

“... I don’t have any family,” the crocodile replies, much too matter of factly despite the pang of hurt shooting through Mikey’s heart at the admission. “And the name I had back then... belongs to the past. I am no longer that creature. I am no longer worthy to carry that given name.”

Mikey blinks once. Twice. A couple dozen times, and lets that sentence hangs in the air between them before letting out a low whistle. 

“Ok dude, we’re _SO_ gonna get into your origin story later, because like, that was a major fun fact you just dropped on the class, and you’re probably the most mysterious and interesting guy in the world to me right now.”

And Mikey doesn’t make a comment about the scarred up crocodile not having a family. Because that meant a whole lot of sad and terrifying things that Mikey _didn’t_ want to think about. Like how he must have had a pretty lonely upbringing. And that there probably wasn’t anyone looking for him right now.

Which Mikey can't even _conceive_. 

Mikey’s never been alone. _Ever_. He had three super cool older brothers and a dad to thank for that. Three older brothers that liked to make pillow forts in the living room so that Mikey didn’t have to sleep by himself after a nightmare. Three older brothers that knew all his favorite songs and snacks to lure him out of his shell whenever he was having a rough day. Three older brothers that always volunteered to taste test his new recipes no matter how bad they were and put trackers on his phone just to be safe and who always included him in everything they did even though he was the baby brother in every way.

He couldn’t even imagine what growing up by himself would have been like. Going through life without someone to hug him when he was scared or make him laugh when he was sad. Having no one call any one of his many nicknames. Not having a name at all.

And not have anyone at home waiting for you. 

The mere idea of it makes Mikey want to throw up. Or cry. Or both.

But he doesn’t, because that _so_ wouldn’t have been fair to his new best friend that Mikey’s straight-up adopting right there on the spot, he’s decided, and puts on the most cheerful face he can muster.

“But, in the meantime, I gotta call you _something_ , because _‘hey you’_ and _‘dude’_ can only get me so far. So,” Mikey leans in, and does his best to try and catch the croc’s attention, which he succeeds at. “What do you want your new name to be?”

The crocodile's eyes meet Mikey’s for a fraction of a second before turning away again, but Mikey noticed the glint of something almost, dare he think it, _endearing_ light up against his green irises in that short amount of time anyway.

“... _Leatherhead_.” 

“What?! Awww, come on dude! No way!” Mikey frowns, and makes a show of looking upset, which is absolutely _ineffective_ against the crocodile, judging by the deadpan glare he shoots Mikey’s way at the uproar. “You can’t pick something I came up with on a _whim_! You gotta pick something better! How many other people get the chance to pick their _own_ name? If I had your chance, I would have gone with Doctor Prankenstien _years_ ago!”

Mikey throws up his hands to emphasize his point, but the crocodile doesn’t do anything more than raise a scaled brow in Mikey’s direction.

“Leatherhead works just fine,” Leatherhead shrugs passively, letting out a slow exhale as he rubs the side of his head. “You’re already used to it anyway. It’d be too confusing to change it now, and I don’t really care either way what you call me. I only asked in the beginning because I was curious if there was a reason for it.”

“But-,”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Leatherhead says again. And he wasn’t mad or stern or anything like that, but Mikey knew well enough after growing up with the bullheaded and endlessly stubborn Donnie that his tone of voice was code for ‘ _drop it_ ’, so Mikey did.

“Well, then ok… Leatherhead,” Mikey paused, and massaged the back of his neck and gave Leatherhead a sort of crooked grin. “I guess introductions are in order.”

Mikey straightened his _criss-cross-applesauce_ sitting position and cleared his throat again. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out just as dramatically. 

“My name is Michelangelo. But everyone calls me Mikey for short. Or Mike, if you wanna go even shorter,” Mikey says, and smiles even wider when he notices Leatherhead listening to him patiently. “Or you can call me Michael, if you wanna be formal. Or Mikester, if we’re at a party. Or Miguel, if you’re my brother Leo. Or-.”

“Michelangelo is fine,” Leatherhead cuts him off with a raised hand, and sighs like he knows some inside joke Mikey doesn’t as he folds his arms over his chest. “You really do talk too much.”

But he says it in a soft way. Nothing biting or mean that Mikey would have been expecting otherwise. And it’s not exactly friendly; Mikey feels it’ll take a lot more to weasel his way into the cracks of Leatherhead's walls to get the big guy to warm up to him, but it’s tolerant and familiar.

And it’s a start.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Mikey says back. The flashbang grin he can feel grow on his face in response is something joyfully automatic and dimpling, as he puts out his hand towards Leatherhead to shake.

Leatherhead regards it with a sweeping glance, and Mikey lets him take his time deciding on whether to take it or not. Slowly though, Leatherhead unfolds his arms and steadily reaches for Mikey’s extended hand.

“ **Wakey wakey! Eggs and Bakey!** ” A loud snort sounds from behind Mikey. 

Mikey whirls around, dropping his extended hand and reflexively moving to a kneeling position in front of Leatherhead just as the sound of keys can be heard jangling against the large metal door. He can feel Leatherhead get tense against the wall behind him, that sort of sixth sense from thirteen years of ninja training kicking in, but he doesn’t have time to check because, within a second, the cell door swings open with a loud and heavy creak, and Mikey is temporarily blinded by the bright yellow light illuminating the two looming figures in the doorway.

“But Bebop, we don’t ‘ave any eggs or bacon. We’re not supposed tah feed da fighters yet, remember?” the large one on the left says.

“I know that, Rocksteady! It’s just a figure of speech!” the one on the right, Bebop, replies gruffly, swinging a hoop of door keys on one of his fat fingers. “You’d think the Bossman would let me bring eggs and bacon down here anyway? He’d sooner put me on a spit roast himself!”

“I dink you’d make some pretty good Bacon, Beebs. Very juicy. ‘igh in protein.”

“ _Awww_ , thanks Rocky, you always say the sweetest things.”

“ _Heeeeeeey_ fellas,” Mikey interjected and tried not to flinch when both the large Yokai’s attention pinned him down like dead weights. “Not to interrupt… whatever it is you two are talking about, but uhhh, I think there’s been a mistake. See, my pal here and I should have been home _hours_ ago, so-”

“Don’t bother with the excuses.” Bebob clicked his tongue, and Mikey decided to keep his focus on the keys he was swinging. His slim shades caught the light's reflection ever so slightly as he cocked his head in annoyance. “We’ve been searching for the E.T for _weeks_ after the jailbreak at Big Mama’s before you showed up. And now that we finally got him, the boss man can finally get off our backs about finding his ‘ _champion_ ’.”

“‘Doh, we didn’t expect tah bring any company wid us,” Rocky shrugged, watching Mikey with a bored smile. “But Bossman said no witnesses. And you’ll make ah good snack for da champion ‘ere.”

“Big Mama? The E.T? _Champion_? What are you two talking about?” Mikey asked. 

He was, of course, genuinely curious. Because he had absolutely _zero_ facts to work with here and knowing more about his current situation would definitely help with figuring out a way out of this place. But also because he needed some time to figure out an opening to do… _something_ , he wasn't really quite sure what that was yet. Plans weren’t really his forte, but the longer he could distract these guys until that _something_ popped into his head, the better.

“You don’t know about _The Emerald Thunder_? Have you been living under a rock?” Bebop announced, surprise etched in every inch of his big stupid face, and Mikey watched him pocket the large hoop of keys into his pants pocket.

“In a sewer actually,” Mikey commented, more to himself than anything else.

“Well, ‘e is only one of dah best fighters in dah Battle Nexus! Been ah reigning champion for almost six years! ‘E’s da most famous fighter in all of da Hidden City!” Rocksteady gestured wildly in the open door frame, elbowing Bebop in the side roughly as he raced to explain first, which prompted Bebop elbowing him back, just as roughly. The two Yokai’s large figures were completely blocking their only exit; there wasn’t even room for Mikey to slip through, no matter how small he was comparatively. “And yer sharing ah cell wid ‘em!”

Woah, wait, _what_? _The_ Battle Nexus? Like the thing Big Mama runs? Like the thing dad did when he was Lou Jitsu? Mikey took a chance and glanced back at Leatherhead with wide eyes, but Leatherhead didn’t return the look. He instead kept an insanely intense glare solidly on their captors, something like hatred or anger or both, pouring off his tight expression like toxic waves. 

“ _Emerald Thunder?_ ” Mikey whispered despite the absolute _‘I’ll-rip-your-head-clean-off-if-you-take-a-step-closer’_ death stare Leatherhead was giving.

“ _As I said, I didn’t choose the names I was given,_ ” Leatherhead growled back in a low, vicious tone. His eyes never breaking from the two standing at the doorway as he raised his voice to say, “If you are just going to sell me back to Big Mama, then do it already. But the turtle has nothing to do with this, so let him go.”

And, _hey_! Mikey _just_ friend-adopted him, there was no way Leatherhead was gonna go all ‘self-sacrifice’ on him and get rid of Mikey _that_ easily. But before Mikey could outwardly pout about it, Rocksteady laughed with his whole body, sending a bellowing echo down the hallway behind him as he cocked his head backwards. Bebop just snorted in response.

“Oh no, sorry to disappoint, but your Battle Nexus days are over. The Bossman has big plans for you to fight in The Underground,” Bebop replied coolly.

At the name ‘ _Underground_ ’, Mikey could feel Leatherhead’s tail jerk next to him, almost in surprise, but the two Yokai in front of him didn’t seem to take notice of it. Bebop let a toothed sneer grow on his face when he nodded in Mikey’s general direction. “And like Rocky said before. Bossman doesn’t want any loose ends running off and exposing us before he can do his whole ‘grand plan’ or whatever, so it’s better to just let the little turtle die here as your snack instead than in the arena as an extra fighter.”

“Ok, _hey_ , first of all, let's cool it with the snack talk for like, a _second_ , please. No one’s eating anyone,” Mikey explained, only to get a murmured _‘just wait’_ and _‘bet ‘e won’t last ah day’_ from the peanut gallery that _really_ didn’t make him feel better about their situation. His head was starting to spin with all this new information he was getting and he didn’t know exactly how to compartmentalize it all. It was times like this he wished he had a computer brain like Donnie. “Second, what do you mean ‘extra fighter’? What’s The Underground?”

Rocksteady looked like he had stars in his eyes, and bounced from one foot to the other excitedly. “It is only da most-”

Was all he got to say before Bebop jabbed him hard in the ribs, and gave him a quick flash of a knowing scowl. “ _Anyway_! We didn’t come down here to explain anything, _right_ Rocky? Only to tell you E.T-”

“ _Leatherhead_ ,” Leatherhead interjected pointedly.

“Uhhh... what?”

“ _Leatherhead_. My name is Leatherhead. If I am not going to be fighting in the Battle Nexus anymore, then I don’t need to use the stage name Big mama gave me,” Leatherhead supplied, his eyes like green daggers, sharp and almost daring them to argue. 

Mikey would have been warmed all the way down to the bones if he wasn’t too busy being terrified out of his mind about everything going on. But then Leatherhead caught his eyes for a split second and, _oh_ , actually, he _could_ afford to be a little warmed by it, and let the kind gesture reach the edges of his mouth in a delayed half-smile he shot at Leatherhead.

“Right… ok then, _Leatherhead_ ,” Bebop answered back slowly, like he was testing the new name in his mouth, ignoring the, _‘Ya know, I kinda like dat! Dat’s ah good fighter name!’_ comment from Rocksteady. “Anyway Leatherhead, we only came down here to get you ready for your first fight. So get up, and come with us real nice like.”

“...And if I don’t?” Leatherhead growled, making zero moves to get up, and Mikey’s heart was beating so hard he could feel it pulsing in his head, which only made his growing headache spin even more.

“We ‘ave our ways, if yah _really_ want tah be difficult,” Rocksteady shrugged but sent a knife-sharp side-eye in Mikey’s direction that sorta caught Mikey super off guard and sent a wincing pain that was way too close to actual fear shooting through Mikey’s chest. “But we can start by killing off dah little turtle first, and den see ‘ow yah feel ‘bout cooperating.”

Leatherhead didn’t meet Mikey’s pleading eyes of ‘ _dude don’t listen to them_ ’ at that, which _sucked_ because Mikey’s puppy dog stare had a 97% accuracy rating, but it didn’t take him long to exhale slowly and try to rise to his feet and legs that shook.

“Woah, _woah_ , hold on!” Mikey yelped, his heart about to burst right through his plastron as he shot up and reached out to support Leatherhead. The crocodile was wavering back and forth, unsteady on his feet, before finally leaning against the wall and Mikey’s extended arms. Leatherhead was a good 5 times bigger than Mikey, but that didn’t stop the turtle from sliding underneath Leatherhead’s other arm and using all his strength to hold up the crocodile with his shoulder and upper arm.

“He’s hurt no thanks to you jerks! He can’t fight! He can _barely_ stand up!” Mikey shouted. And Dr. Delicate touch never came out in appropriate settings _anyway_ , and this certainly wasn’t the time to get snarky with two Yokai that could easily squash him in between their fingers like a bug. But Mikey was spiteful and stubborn when he was angry, like a short wicked fuse, and sometimes that anger was all too blinding to try and read an atmosphere. “Skilled fighter or not, he _can’t_ fight! Not without treatment! You can’t _make_ him fight!”

Mikey did the best _‘I’ll-bite-your-nose-off-if-you-try’_ scowl he could muster, but judging from the dark and shadowed looks on the Yokai's faces, the message didn’t really get across. Or worse, it _did_ , but they just didn’t care.

“He can get treatment if he earns it. By winning his first fight,” Bebob hums dangerously, and if he notices the red-tinted bandage around Leatherhead’s throat, and how hard Leatherhead is breathing just from standing up, he pretends he doesn’t.

“And trust us, tiny turtle,” Rocksteady huffed, low and mean, and flexed his shoulders from beside Bebop, as if he was sizing Mikey up and gearing for an inevitable throw down. “Yah don’t want tah _know_ what we can make ‘em do.”

At that, Bebob took a generous step forward into their tiny cell, using his full height to his advantage and towering over Mikey just as Leatherhead began growing at him. A deep rumble that grew as he flexed a clawed hand over Mikey protectively, a sneer pulling at the edges of Leatherhead’s mouth to expose a sharp row of teeth that glowed in the yellow light and... and _holy yikes!_

 _Something_ bad was about to happen, Mikey wasn’t sure what, but there was a high pitched ringing like alarm bells going off in his head that Mikey didn’t have time to make sense of. So he doesn’t. And Raph was _always_ complaining that Mikey got into sticky situations because he doesn’t think things through, and just acts on pure impulse and flow of a situation. How Mikey was always too much ‘ _screaming cannonball_ ’ and not enough ‘ _testing the water out with one foot first’_.

And with Bebop looming closer and Leatherhead just on the dangerous side of murderous, Mikey just can’t bring himself to prove Raph wrong _quite_ yet. 

“I’ll fight in his place!” Mikey shouts, shooting out from underneath Leatherhead’s hold and stopping right in Bebob's path before he could get any closer. Tensing his shoulders and standing as tall as he could, he glares up at the pig Yokai with a determination that would take a tank to tear down. “Let me fight instead of him.”

The silence that hung in the air was thick and tense and felt like it lasted an eternity for all that it lasted only a few seconds. And if it had lasted any more, it would have given Mikey a chance to have a mental breakdown about what the _heck_ he just said, but as it turned out, he never got that chance because Rocksteady burst into another fit of laughter. 

“ _You? Fight?_ ” Was the only thing Mikey could make out through the heavy howls as the rhino Yokai bent over and leaned against the door frame for support, his arms hugging his middle tightly, like he was trying to keep himself from splitting in half.

“It’s not _that_ funny,” Mikey murmured, which only made the rhino laugh harder.

“No offense pipsqueak, but we’re talking about _De_ Underground ‘ere. Yah couldn’t fight yer way out of ah shoebox, let alone fight in dah bloodiest arena in all dah Hidden City. ‘Ell, maybe even dah ‘ole world!”

“Now hold on. That’s not a bad idea,” Bebop said, and something quicker than a bullet flashed in his eyes, too quick for Mikey to catch, as a slow smile split his lips into a leering grin.

“It’s _not_?” Mikey and Rocksteady said in unison, and Bebop’s creepy smile only seemed to grow bigger. 

“You were too busy holding off the croc, Rocky, but I was up close and personal with this brat,” Bebop held up his forearm to the yellow light, and it took awhile for Mikey to distinguish what exactly he was looking at until Bebop pointed it out. “Little bastard took a good chunk of my arm before I threw him off. He’s tiny, and probably won’t last long. But he’s feisty and scrappy, and can play downright dirty when he needs to. He’ll probably put on a good show until the main entertainment.”

And sure enough, there was a jagged and deep tooth ring on the inside of the pig’s forearm that Mikey could even make out in the dark, and he allowed himself a vindictive mental pat on the back for it.

Mikey was the youngest and smallest out of a family of all boys. Fighting dirty wasn’t just a tactic, it was a survival skill. And came as naturally to Mikey as breathing or laughing did.

“Yah dink dah Boss will go fer it?” Rocksteady mused, his laughing evening out finally as he straightened against the door frame, his large meaty arms crossing over his chest.

“The Boss doesn’t care _who_ fights as long as he gets a champion out of it,” Bebop replied, looking Mikey up and down, as if he was searching for something in particular.

“ _Wait_ ,” Leatherhead interjects, taking a step forward and reaching out towards Mikey, but Mikey didn’t give him the chance to finish.

“If I win, he gets medical treatment! And water and food!” Mikey stumbles to say, decidedly _not_ looking back at Leatherhead so that his resolution doesn’t falter even an inch. “Those are my terms!”

“Sure sure, whatever you say,” Bebop replied nonchalantly. His smile never wavering as he took out the key ring from his pocket and began swirling it around his fat finger again, walking back towards the open door frame. “We can talk more about it on the way to the arena. The first match is starting soon, and we still have to get you all ready.”

“And inform dah Boss,” Rocksteady added helpfully.

“Right, and do that. Rock, paper, scissors on who gets to go tell him.”

“Nuh-uh. No way, buddy. It was _yer_ idea. _Yah_ tell ‘em.”

“I told him last time! It’s your turn!”

“Yah only told ‘em last time because it was _yer_ idea again! Next time _I_ ‘ave an idea, _I’ll_ tell ‘em!”

“Don’t worry Leatherhead, it’ll be alright,” Mikey whispered, taking the chance as the two Yokai were arguing to turn back around and pat Leatherhead’s arm that was outstretched towards him. “I may not look it, but I’m sort of, like, a master at ninjutsu. Well not a _master_ , but I was trained by one! And I know I didn’t exactly show it back in the sewer, but trust me, now that I can see, it’s over for these bit-”

“ _Michelangelo, stop talking and listen to me_ ,” Leatherhead hissed, and in one fluid motion, cupped a giant hand gently over Mikey’s mouth and crouched down so that they were at eye level. “ _You don’t understand how dangerous this is. You don’t have to do this. I can fight my own battles._ ”

“ _Nu, yu can’d!_ ” Mikey muffled behind Leatherhead’s hand, before wiggling his head out from the crocodile’s hold. “And you shouldn’t _have_ to! You’re _hurt_ L! Like, badly hurt!”

“ _I've been worse,_ ” Leatherhead commented, and his green eyes suddenly looked radioactive. Bright and fiery in defiance of the dark. “ _And you don’t understand what you’ve just agreed to. The Underground isn’t just any fighting arena. It isn’t like the Battle Nexus! It’s-_ ”

“ **Turtle**!”

“It’s _fine_. Trust me!” Mikey whispered back quickly. Giving his best flash-bang grin as he patted Leatherhead’s hand on his shoulder softly. “My brothers should have noticed I’ve been gone whole hours ago anyway, and are probably on their way here _right_ now to rescue us! So don’t worry about it!”

He pulled away from Leatherhead's grip before the crocodile could stop him, and gave him a little wave as he hopped towards the open cell door, with Bebop and Rocksteady waiting patiently for him just outside, their silhouettes illuminated by the yellow hallway light. “I’ll see you really soon with goodies! Save a spot on the cold floor for me!”

Rocksteady grabbed his arm roughly as soon as he walked out from under the doorframe, which was a _little_ much, considering Mikey hadn’t even _planned_ that far ahead for an escape. But he didn’t fight it, cause _huh_ , _yeah_ , now that he thought about it, now would have been a pretty good time to try and book it the _heck_ outta there.

But that would have meant leaving Leatherhead. And Mikey was only _in_ this situation in the first place because that was the one thing he _couldn’t_ do.

“Oh hey, I forgot, we didn’t exactly go over the terms for if I lose the fight,” Mikey asked, watching Bebop fiddle with the right keys to lock the door while it was still open. “Is this like, fight club rules? Cause to be honest guys, I sorta fell asleep during the first five minutes of that movie.”

Bebop didn’t make any inclination that he had heard Mikey, still focusing on the jumble of keys in his hand before softly ' _AH-HAH'_ ing the right one and slamming it into the door lock. Rocksteady just regarded him with a raised brow, his grip on Mikey’s arm never faltering.

“If yah lose, terms won’t really matter,” he answered back. He began leading Mikey down the faintly lit hallway and Mikey looked over his shoulder and managed to catch Leatherhead's illuminated and dilated eyes _just_ as Bebop slammed the cell door shut behind him. “Because if yah lose, yer _dead_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10k chapter! Whoo this was a long one! Didn't mean to make it so long, but whoop, I apparently had too much to say! Anyway, enjoy this cliffhanger! Next chapter we switch pov's to one of the other turtle brothers, so stay tuned for that! Hope y'all enjoyed it! And if you liked it, let me know your thoughts in the comments!

**Author's Note:**

> This took me so long to finish but I finally did it! I hope you enjoy the first chapter! I can't wait to get into more angst as you join me on the wild ride!
> 
> This is very much a Mikey centered fic, but we'll see other POV's as the story progresses! See you soon!


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